


Arathorn's Final Visit

by hitagashi



Series: Raising Fili Baggins [2]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Family, Family, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 23:32:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hitagashi/pseuds/hitagashi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last time Arathorn visits is filled with laughter and smiles, eyes watering and mouths aching at the end of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arathorn's Final Visit

**Author's Note:**

> A side story! Because I felt the need to write fluffy friendship. Also because I got the sads thinking about Arathorn. BUT THERE'S A TEENY BIT OF ANGSTY MENTIONS.

The last time Arathorn visits, he's full of cheer and seems ready to burst with happiness. But at the same time there's a lingering sadness, almost as if he's preparing for something horrid. But he tuts and pats and tries to make sure they're wearing their knives.

(They realize later, once they've met Gilraen, why this is.)

“I gave those to you for your protection, littles!” And, oh, they hate that nickname. They'd normally huff and say they're not little but the problem was the hint of resignation they could pick up. They hug him, both of them at once, smiles in place while they pull him into the kitchen. Fresh scones rest on the table, cheesy, jam covered, crispy, crunchy, softer, all the types they could think of. It had seemed a baking day.

“Well, earn your keep Scone Fiend. Can't have you not fulfilling your title!” Arathorn laughed, happily digging into the scones offered. He sat in the only big chair, his chair, something Fili and Bilbo had worked from wood themselves. It had taken a few years to make it perfect for the man and he'd been delighted when presented it.

(And it hurt when Thorin or Gandalf sat in it, later, because that chair was never sat in again. It wasn't meant to be, it wasn't theirs, and it took everything in them to not beat the dwarf and wizard out of the chair.)

(Instead they just tucked their knives closer, slipped an extra in, and listened.)

They make small talk, weather, travels, various things like that. At one point, Arathorn fumbles for a locket and they laugh because his grace in battle disappeared whenever he entered the Shire. He'd explained it as him trying to be careful, didn't want to hurt anyone, and they'd punched him in the thigh for it.

“I've had it painted, you see, it's important that I-oh, there it is,” muttered, hand twitching when Bilbo placed the small thing in his hand. He smiled brightly at the hobbit, opening it with great care and showing them. A picture of a woman, pretty as can be, and a picture of a little boy.

And that's how they were regaled with the story of Arathorn's courting of Gilraen. He'd tried to do it the way he'd been taught, tried to do all the things hobbits dubbed distinctly as Mannish Folly. The two had laughed a bit at the idea that she poured ale into his lap, ignoring the sputtering and flushing he did. Really, what was he thinking giving a woman of the Men-folk flowers and thinking she wouldn't know the _meaning_. He was smarter than that.

(She kept the first flower, pressed between two pieces of glass and hanging about her neck.)

And then he went about incorporating different parts of Bilbo's stories, especially things from Oropher and Berrirose's tale. She'd been struck near dumb at his utter devotion, especially when she said if he could wait, just wait, two more months, then she'd see what she could do.

He'd waited, he'd worked, but he never forgot her in those two months and worried, incessantly, that someone else might want to court her. He never doubted her, however, only silently cursing anyone who might try to court her instead.

This earned a laugh. A really long, really inappropriately loud laugh. He'd stammered and flushed and squeaked and did every embarrassed thing he could possibly do. But they were happy for him, moving around the table to squeeze him in a tight hug. He was a good friend and they were so happy he'd found someone to love.

“And this is?” Bilbo pat the man on the cheek with his question, curious.

“My son, Aragorn, he's precious to me.” He frowned, a small flinch coming to him with that.

“Best get ready for absolute mayhem. Especially with baths and eating vegetables.” And they laughed, Fili covering his face in embarrassment when Bilbo began regaling the events of his earlier years there. And the first bath. Arathorn laughed, trying hard to stay in his chair. “He kicked me! Right in the face!” And that caused more laughter, the man sliding out of his chair and to the floor. Tears streamed down his face and he tried, hard, to regain composure.

Bilbo felt it was his favorite moment in knowing Arathorn.

(When he met Gilraen and her son, he told them about that, sadness trying to edge in but not succeeding.)

The last time Arathorn visits is filled with laughter and smiles, eyes watering and mouths aching at the end of it. There's trading of tales, stories bouncing back and forth. A party, held for the man's child despite him not being there. They were a happy seven days. The last he visits, he gives them new daggers to go with the ones they were supposed to wear always and asks them to please be careful.

And the last they see him, when no one but those three are around, is when Arathorn tells them who he really is and seems about ready to run. So they cuff him on the head and wish him a good journey because he's _Arathorn_ and _Arathorn_ is their _friend_. And hobbits (and their dwarf sons) care for simple things and what is more simple than the love one care share with another? Platonic, romantic, familial, that is their greatest treasure.

**Author's Note:**

> So! There we are. Working on TTBaTGA's next chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own The Hobbit and make no money from these writings.


End file.
